


Away From The Valley

by Persianjuliet



Series: Away In The Valley [2]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: Adventure, Danger, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Healing, Heartache, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Returning Home, Reunions, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persianjuliet/pseuds/Persianjuliet
Summary: Snufkin returns from a years-long absence and tells the story of where he's been.





	Away From The Valley

The Snufkin was a peculiar animal. He had a wide nose, deft little hands, a bird’s nest of honey-brown hair, and large eyes that brought to mind a rather curious owl. He may or may not have had a tail, but that kind of thing is very private to a snufkin, and so I will not say. He was not an owl, though, nor was he a human, or a Moomin. He was a very special and unique creature in the world (though if he ever knew this, he did not care). 

He often described himself as a vagabond, or a tramp, depending on how romantic he was feeling about his wandering lifestyle. Moomin, with stars in his eyes, usually called him an explorer, and that embarrassed him greatly. On this particular spring night, after returning from a perilous journey home that had parted them for nearly three years, Snufkin was inclined to call himself a rather special kind of fool. 

Of course, his extended absence was not really his fault, but it had been a tiring day. 

As Snufkin was passed from Moominmamma to Moominpappa for rounds of enthusiastic hugging and tearful welcomes, he reflected that it had in fact been a tiring two years and six months. He did not have the energy to resist the soft white paws tugging at his pack and his boots, nor the cup of tea pressed on him at first chance. He allowed himself to be fussed over and petted as they marveled at their son’s sudden return to visibility and Snufkin’s return- and unlike his normal shy and wildling self, found himself rather enjoying it. For the tea was more delicious and the sofa even softer than he remembered, and when Moominmamma told him that she was so glad he came home, he found himself agreeing. He was glad too, and he was home. 

Moominhouse was warm inside, and the two young ones were sat near the stove as waves of heat poured off of it. Snufkin wondered if he had ever really been cozy before in his life. Surely he would remember a feeling as splendid as this. His tired eyes drank in every detail, filling in the gaps that had formed in his memory, and relishing the things he had remembered. One stripe of the wallpaper a little thinner than the others, just there, and the warped board under Moominpappa’s chair that always creaked and bent, just there. He noticed the old curtains, always kept clean, and the enamel flaked in spots on the kettle. He was happy to see each little thing, all other them as comfortable as his old green hat that he missed so dearly. 

Some things had changed while he was gone, though- there was a tablecloth on the big old dining table that Snufkin didn’t recognize, with mismatched embroidery around the hem that looked as if one very skillful person and one very small and impatient person had done it together. There was a burn mark on the rug, and a new vase on the sill. A small catlike animal (a new pet, perhaps?) could be seen peeking at them disapprovingly from the stairs. There were new pictures on the walls, crowded together with the old ones, and some of them showed faces that Snufkin didn’t recognize. 

The realization hit him again, suddenly, as it had when an invisible Moomin bowled him off of his feet earlier. Although his time away had been dogged by fear of disaster striking this peaceful place, some part of Snufkin had always taken for granted that Moominvalley was like a perfect time capsule; a harbor from the storms outside, unchanging and unconcerned with the rest of the world when he left. For usually the residents hibernated nearly the whole time though, and though he had been gone so much longer this time, perhaps a part of him had expected the same. 

But of course life had moved on without him. Why wouldn’t it? And he had missed it. He had missed these strangers on the walls, he had missed the seasons passing, he had missed the fading away of his dearest friend. He had missed the chance to stop it. The revelation troubled Snufkin, and he bit his lip and wrinkled his eyebrows together as he mulled it over.

All the while, Moomin stuck fast to Snufkin’s side, holding his arm. Snufkin was glad for it. When they sat down, he let himself relax into his friend’s side, pressing close and drawing up his stocking feet underneath him. Moomin was soft and round and made for the most perfect pillow imaginable.

The Moomin family was as kind as could be, but Snufkin could tell all three were bursting with curiosity. The question on the tip of everyone’s tongue was this: Where had Snufkin been all this time? Moominpappa, worrying at the brim of his everpresent top hat, was the first to ask.

Snufkin considered how to answer this question for a long, long time. Telling the whole story from start to finish seemed an impossible feat, and he dreaded reliving some of the trials that had nearly kept him from Moominvalley permanently. However, saying “I got lost and couldn’t find my way home” seemed trite. They surely deserved more of the story than that. 

Snufkin sighed, letting his head roll carelessly onto Moomintroll’s shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, and said-

“I knew it! He’s really back! Didn't I _tell_ you I heard his song?”

There was a shrill cry, a chorus of gasps, and the slam of a door being flung back with some force. All these sounded at once, startling the Moomins and causing Snufkin to leap up and cower behind the sofa as if he had been shot at by Moominpappa’s unruly old blunderbuss. Moominmamma and Moominpappa rushed to intercept the intruders (and I think many of you can already guess who was at the door), while Moomin went to Snufkin’s side, his great soft eyes full of concern. 

Once upon a time, Snufkin would have perhaps flinched at the surprise intrusion, but little more, and maybe less. But danger and excitement go hand in hand, and sometimes the price of adventure is a scar or two. And Snufkin knew what Moomin had learned when he became invisible; that scars can be left on the mind just as indelibly as the skin. 

But the touch of his old friend was much more comfort than the grip of his pack and the handle of his fishing rod had been, and Snufkin was more or less composed by the time the newcomers descended upon him, although he trembled a little when they shouted. 

Do not judge them too harshly for scaring him, these excitable creatures who lead such soft lives. While Little My (for she was one) was a cynical and sharp-eyed little thing, she never did learn much of delicacy or consideration, and they loved her for it all the same. Snorkmaiden (for she was another) never knew of the darkness of the world, and the greatest traumas she ever endured were soon soothed away entirely by the gentleness that surrounded her. Sniff (for he was the last) was a creature that always meant well, tactless though he may be.

Upon seeing his long-lost friends, jumping and clutching at each other and yelling back and forth with delight at the doubly marvelous sight of a returned Snufkin and a visible Moomintroll, Snufkin could not help but smile. He didn’t bother to try and answer their flood of questions, although Moomin did, haltingly and awkwardly at the now-unfamiliar sound of his own voice. 

When Moomin tried to describe what had happened on the old bridge with Snufkin to reverse his fading away, Snufkin automatically tried to tug the brim of his hat down to hide the rising color in his cheeks. When he remembered he had lost his floppy black replacement hat in the river, he resorted to turning away and looking steadfastly at the wallpaper. 

Snorkmaiden found it all terribly dashing, and was in tears by the end. Little My snickered throughout, and Sniff seemed nonplussed, though happy to be able to see his friend once again. 

It took ages for everyone to settle down once again, and by the time their friends had been guided into seats with their hands and paws clutching mugs of tea, Snufkin could tell that Moomin and his parents were still aching to hear about his lost years abroad. 

Snufkin leaned over his mug (Moominmamma had refilled it for him twice more, after he drank so eagerly. There had been little tea on his travels, and none so good as Moominmamma’s). He breathed in deep, letting the sweet-scented steam clear his lungs and steady his nerves. He longed for his pipe, suddenly, for the first time in months. He had lost it to a greedy sailor a long time back, when everything… well. That was as good a place to start as any, wasn’t it? 

All eyes were on the wanderer now as he gathered his thoughts. His hands fumbled momentarily as he sought out the words, but Moomin’s warm paws caught them up and steadied him, and that was enough.

“When everything went wrong... I was asked to board a sailing-ship. I had only been gone from Moominvalley a month, and I met a sea captain. His name was Rostan, and he wanted me to play music for him...”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so very much for the love and feedback you showered me with for Fading Away. It was purely and entirely your feedback that gave me what I needed to write Snufkin's story. You're all so dear to me, and I hope you continue to enjoy my work.


End file.
